Tuesday, November 13, 2012

For
the last week of the three we spent in Grenada, we've been saying:
“We are going to go”. Our friends in the Marina said “good-bye”
three times, “and we are glad you are still here” another three
times. Until we finally stopped announcing our departure so much and
just waited for a weather window.

In
that time our friend Sylvan picked us up on his car to spend Friday
afternoon on the beach and have a delicious creole lunch. We also
went to the fish market and invited some friends, Danny, the manager
of the marina and Tricia, for dinner. And they liked our seared tuna
with sesame seeds and the ginger-garlic sauce, so much that next
morning they took us to the market and bought fish to make a party
for the crew members of the magi yachts and us in a big house across
the marina that they were house setting that week- end. That was a
Saturday night party with DJ and lots of interesting people from
different parts of the world.

But
Sunday was our day, when the north swells were gone and we had
northeast winds to sail straight to Tobago, located southeast of
Grenada. Even that morning we were still doubting if we'd go to an
Eastern party in the mountains that we were invited to, by this
lovely people in a community located on a road called 91, in
Belvidere. But this was, probably our only chance in a few day to do
this journey. So, after lunch, we tied off the nice floating dock and
left. In the way out of St. George Bay, we called Danny and Tricia
to say good bye. She walked out to the balcony just in time to see us
going by.

We
sailed over night, me upside down as usual, after 3 weeks docked I
lost my sea legs. But this was the most beautiful night on the sea.
The sunset was gorgeous, even between the fug in the horizon, and the
moon rose full and orange and got behind a big cloud that looked like
a puffer fish, lighting the eyes and the mouth. Then we had a tired
bird hitchhiking. He was having a hard time to grab the bowpulpit and
the running lights were not helping him either, so Jim turn them off
and our guest rested until the light of Tobago showed up by 4 o'
clock in the morning.

At
6:30 am we were anchoring across Charlotteville Town, in Man of War
Bay. Where, as other boaters there told us, we were the only plastic
boat on the anchorage.

Grenada
welcomed us with a rain storm. We sailed through a thick wall of rain
just guided by the GPS and appealing to Jim's sailor's instinct,
since we didn't have the wind instrument working. I have to confess I
was concern about sailing on a storm (this wasn't quite one), but it
was actually very pleasant. When it stopped raining and the sky was
clear again, the sun shone, Grenada showed off like a mysterious
island. We knew it was there, but its suddenly apparition behind the
clouds was even romantic.

This
island is as dangerous as the mystic islands in Pirates movies, with
the mermaids' music making sailors fall in love with them.
Everything is nice; its welcoming people who doesn't seem to care
about the racial difference like the in other islands; the ever
green forest, the good diving sites, the fruits and vegetables, their
colorful architecture, the delightful spices the family traditions,
the tourist who meet there and never want to leave. They end getting
in that Grenadian flow that everybody love.

A
lot of sailors get stock between the arms of this place for a long
time. We got here in the afternoon and made a plan for the weekend,
so Archie could get to see Grenada before Monday, when he was flying
back to the U.S. We rented a car and drove across the country,
visited the farms and enjoyed the scenery of the mountains, its
fresh air, the perfumes of the rain forest. We also went to the
market, the most friendly sellers and better looking produce of the
Caribbean, and took a tour of Belmont state, the town where the
chocolate factory is.

We
thought that three days of sightseeing would be enough, but we kept
the car because we had to pick up the mast head unit and go to the
machine shop to deal with the bowpulpit rebuilding. To get work done
in Grenada is actually a pain, you have to chase the mechanics and
beg them to take the money and do the job, and then harass them to
get it done when you need it. It took several trips to the repair
shop and lot of patience. In the other hand getting something shipped
in Grenada from the U.S. is expensive and in top of that you have to
pay a 65% of taxes for the total value of the goods. After all it was
a good thing that we kept the car for two weeks.

When
all the work was finished, we found out that we couldn't leave, there
were so much to do and so many people to meet, places to go. We were
definitely trapped in the enchanted waters of Grenada.

That
night we went to happy island, it was already full of people. There
was a regatta on the area and all the cruisers, wearing T-shirts to
identify their team, were there too. The place was really busy, we
got a rum punch and just stay around watching the people until the
place started to get too crazy for our taste. The island people,
trying to get in the party were jumping over the dinghies.
We all agreed: “it's time to go”.

The
cook impressed everybody, as usual, and we all went to sleep after
dinner, but the Captain, who stayed all night thinking about the
instrument. That night, unable to fall asleep; he got on Internet,
fallowing that reflex of trying again and again, just to see if his
eyes were lying. And for sure he found in the Datamarine repair
website a refurbish mast head unit, on special” It was hard to
believe. So he e-mail the company asking to hold it for him.

All
the way from Union Island, to Petit Martinique, Petit St. Vincent,
Carriacou, he was talking on the phone trying to get an address in
Grenada, our next destination, to ship the piece in; and to assure
that they were not going to sale this instrument to somebody else.

In
the meanwhile Archie and I were enjoying the sights. Petit Martinique
didn't look very exciting, there were little business and houses
along the coast, couple of boats were being built on the beach and a
cargo ship was moored on the only concrete dock of the island. A lot
of fishing boats were anchored too and one of them, a new looking
one, had his proud owner seating on the deck. “I just finished it a
week ago”. He said very happy. That day we spent the night in Petit
St. Vincent, which is a private island with a resort, and the next
day in Tyrel Bay, Carriacou, where we actually went on shore to
explore and find out how bad the economy is doing in places like
that, that Jim visited four years ago and find them nice and now they
are just banged. Specially the boat yard; with lots of abandoned
boats; the restaurants and the spa. It didn't look like many boaters
go there like they used to.